But ere the words could find utterance, her maternal tenderness overcame her indignation; and, sinking upon her knees, she extended her arms over her child. “It’s either now or never,” she said to herself. The windows of these rooms were obscured with draperies, their floors a carpet patchwork; the china ornaments on their mantels were of a class apart. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. The air was sweet with the smoky perfume of myrrh, hazy and dense with incense. Next instant, Melusine’s blade sank into Gosse’s flesh. “Allow me,” the doctor said, “to give you a word of advice, Miss Pellissier.
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